


Don’t leave me here alone, baby

by henriqua



Series: Lost and Found [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Genderfluid Character, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:28:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29761023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henriqua/pseuds/henriqua
Summary: Otabek swears he could spend days just like that: out of everyone’s sight, just accompanied by cigarettes and the rowdy boy he loves so much it often hurts.
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Series: Lost and Found [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2187231
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	Don’t leave me here alone, baby

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr. I'm very sad I don't have anything new to post today on Yuri's birthday, but I hope this old drabble makes up for it. It's the very first thing I wrote for this AU, inspired by [the second art in this post](https://creemsicaal.tumblr.com/post/166884319891/sex-smoke-sleep-repeat-otabek-altin-week), and since then this AU has become extremely important to me.

The half-empty plastic cup forgotten on the small bedside table has stains of dark red lipstick around its rim; the same shade got smeared all over Otabek’s lips, neck and chest the night before as Yuri kissed and bit his way down, down, down.  
  
Rain drums against the bedroom window, and when someone’s loud, hungover cursing travels through the house, a part of Otabek is glad no one is expecting them to show up downstairs before late afternoon.  
  
Otabek picks up his worn-up leather jacket from where it got thrown out of the way when the room was still dark and the party downstairs was shaking the floor, and takes his lighter and a pack of cigarettes out of the right-side pocket. The jacket finds its way back on the floor as Otabek lights a cigarette and takes his first drag of the day.  
  
He lets out a satisfied sigh at the familiar, almost comforting taste, a cloud of smoke escaping out of his mouth. Otabek swears he could spend days just like that: out of everyone’s sight, just accompanied by cigarettes and the rowdy boy he loves so much it often hurts.  
  
The blanket they’re sharing is covering Yuri only from the waist down, and Otabek enjoys the rare stagnant moment, counting the prints of his own teeth on Yuri’s pale skin. Out of the two of them Yuri is more aggressive - louder and tougher - but Otabek has developed a sick fixation of needing to mark his own: the bike, the bottles of beer in the fridge, Yuri.  
  
The dark red lipstick has stained Yuri’s bottom lip, hints of it in the corner of his mouth looking a little bit like blood. Most of his hair has fallen out of the messy bun he made on top of his head last night when he was riding Otabek’s cock, the red-painted lips filling the bedroom in filthy nothings.  
  
Yuri is like a hurricane: dangerous, lethal even, and a huge mess on the inside. Yuri paints his sharp nails black and uses them to leave deep-pink paths on Otabek’s back when they fuck, because a part of him understands Otabek’s need to leave reminders. He only cries when drunk and tired, and Otabek wouldn’t think twice about killing a man if it was for Yuri.  
  
Yuri blinks his eyes slowly open, faint remains of mascara and eyeliner all around his eyes, and for some reason Otabek simply can’t find him anything else but stunning. Yuri points at the cigarette between Otabek’s lips and Otabek gives it to him, watching how he takes it between his long, delicate fingers and destroys his lungs with smoke.  
  
“Shit,” he mumbles and hands the cigarette back, and Otabek gives him a rare smile. Yuri sits up and frees the rest of his hair, a mix of white and gold falling down his naked back. He’s still wearing a lacy choker around his neck, an illusion of softness broken by the foul words he keeps spitting out.  
  
“More booze?” Otabek asks as a way to say _good morning_ and smirks around the cigarette. He takes a drag and isn’t even surprised when Yuri pulls him into a kiss before he gets to exhale.  
  
It’s Yuri who lets the smoke out in the room, and then he climbs on top of Otabek and blatantly steals the end of the cigarette to himself. He blows some smoke right in his face and laughs before flicking the stump into the cup with lipstick on it.  
  
“Maybe later,” he says, his voice raw from singing and laughing and moaning last night. Then he kisses Otabek, sloppy and open-mouthed, sucking at his tongue and biting down on his bottom lip, rocking his hips teasingly over Otabek’s hardening erection but not moving a muscle to remove the thin blanket between them.  
  
And _maybe later_ changes to _when we go downstairs_ , and _when we go downstairs_ changes to _don’t leave me here alone, baby_.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/avaruussade) | [tumblr](https://sleepyams.tumblr.com/)


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